Preconcieved Ideas Are Usually False
by IaspiretobeDarcy828
Summary: Harry is used to what happens after Dumbledore's plans so he's as shocked as anybody when it seems like Dumbledore's new plan, the resorting, may actually brings something good to his life. Severitus and eventual Draco/Harry.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I wish I was J.K. Rowling. But I'm not. So I own none of these guys and I'm not making money off of them either.

A/N: Give me reviews.

Chapter 1

"I wonder what Dumbledore is going to say," Hermione fretted. Harry looked up at the table where all the teachers were sitting. Dumbledore was talking to Snape, who was arguing very heatedly with the Headmaster.

"Who cares?" Ron snorted. "If it is getting us out of potions he could be telling us that Ginny's dead, for all I care."

"Thanks, Ron," Ginny said, suddenly appearing on the other side of him. "Hi Harry."

"Hi Ginny," Harry greeted her absently. He knew that Ron was joking when he was talking about Ginny being dead, but he wished he hadn't said it. Losing people like that wasn't something to joke about.

_Sirius_. He thought with a pang. Dumbledore stood up and Harry pushed those thoughts away. He didn't need to show any kind of weakness in the Great Hall, especially in front of the Slytherins. Especially in front of Draco.

Dumbledore regally approached the podium and an instant hush fell over the great hall. Like a wave crashing over a shore instantaneously. Even the Slytherins quieted as his aged hands were lifted and his mouth opened.

"Welcome students," He said very anticlimactically. Harry withheld a sigh. He sensed that Dumbledore was good, but sometimes he was a bit much, and not in a good way. He was the "much" that let small details that cost people lives slip through the cracks. "I have been talking with the rest of my colleagues and a brilliant thought appeared to me. People change, students," He sent a sweeping gaze through the audience. "And I feel like perhaps we have sorted everyone a bit early."

"What?" Hermione whispered in shock. Harry and Ron turned to look at her, expecting her to fill them in like she usually did when they were a step behind her. She just shook her head and returned her gaze back to Dumbledore.

"That is why, students, I am starting a new tradition in which students will be resorted every three years," Dumbledore announced calmly. He continued on, oblivious to the cries of protest that erupted throughout the hall. "That means that all children in year two, one, four, five, and seven are exempt from this rule, as to maintain the every three year schedule."

He must have continued talking but Harry couldn't hear a thing. He was closing in on himself until all noise around him disappeared. He knew that he was going to be put into Slytherin this time. If the hat thought he was good at sneaking around before he came to Hogwarts then there was no way it would let his new and improved ability of sneaking and lying go without correctly sorting him.

And it wasn't really the fact of being a Slytherin that worried him. He understood that Slytherin was only as bad as people made it out to be. No one really gave Slytherins a chance, and Harry, dealing with the same thing with Snape, was loath to do that same thing. But instead it was the fact that Gryffindors were used to Harry's little idiosyncrasies. They knew he liked to shower on his own, that if he woke up in the middle of the night only Ron was allowed to talk to him and that was only short conversations consisting of Ron checking to make sure he was okay and Harry responding in an affirmative. They knew if Harry had his curtains drawn he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances unless somebody was dying.

Also, there was the fact that Harry simply was not safe there. He knew that not all Slytherins were Deatheaters but that didn't mean that some of them were. And he couldn't really count on Snape to make sure he was safe.

"Harry mate, you with us?" Ron jostled him in the side and Harry felt as if he had been punched. What if, since he was a Slytherin, Ron and Hermione hated him? He was pretty sure that Hermione wouldn't mind, but he didn't want to make her choose between him and Ron again. And Ron had always made his distaste for Slytherins clear.

"Yeah, just thinking," Harry answered, getting the feeling that he was a second too late by the looks they gave him. He turned and watched as the third years went through, sitting down on the same stool and accepting the hat on their heads with much more grace than they did the first time around, his stomach a mess of nerves that made it impossible to consider speaking to his friends, even if it was the last time they would talk to him.

Finally after a torturous eternity Harry was called up. On the walk up he could almost convince himself that he was just getting himself worked up for nothing, that the hat would announce that he was a Gryffindor through and through. Almost.

As McGonagall placed the hat on his head it slid down his forehead, covering his eyes and making him wonder who exactly the hat was designed for if it still didn't fit him.

_Ah, you again?_ The hat whispered in his ear. It felt eerily similar to the way Voldemort looked through his head and he suppressed a shiver as a chill ran up and down his spine.

"Just get it over with," Harry whispered. The hat sighed, the sound resounding through Harry's skull and he felt the cloth shift as the hat opened its mouth. Harry closed his eyes and mouthed the words with the hat.

"SLYTHERIN!"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Poop.

A/N: Thanks you EmptyOrFull and soontobeburns for their awesome reviews. I love reviews! Also mentions of abuse. It will continue throughout the story, so I'm not going to say it again, but I forgot to put it in the summary, so here it is.

Chapter 2

Every time Severus' life changed it was because of a single person. Lily Potter. The first time he realized that he was capable of being loved, of having a friend, it was because the small red headed girl with beautiful green eyes stretched out a hand to him. The first time he realized that was his father did to him was wrong, that he did not _deserve_ it, it was because the same green eyes were filled with tears as they stared at his red and ravaged back. His first time at Hogwarts had happened with Lily by his side. His first kiss had been Lily, when they were in only their second year and Lily had kissed him because Black had dared her to kiss somebody and instead of choosing Potter, sitting right next to her, she had walked all the way to the Slytherin table and laid one on him.

The first person who he had loved had been her. The first person to break his heart had been her. And the first person to make him realize that he was destined to be exactly like his father, a bitter man who was loved by nobody, was her, when he was foolish enough to value pride over friendship.

And now, years after her death, after his heart had been shattered into a million pieces, he found that Lily Potter was not done changing his life. Because her son, and it was only a times like this, when he could forget how angry he was supposed to be at the child and call him her son instead of Potter's, was in Slytherin.

"What?" Sprout whispered next to Severus. Though Severus did not say such out loud, he agreed. Harry Potter was a Gryffindor through and through. He had the reckless bravery attributed to the lions' house, and the lack of for thought before going into situations that only Gryffindors could claim. But apparently Hogwarts had been missing something about Harry Potter all these years.

Potter took the hat off of his head and walked steadily to the Slytherin table, sitting down in the front with the first years. Severus shook himself and turned his attention back to the sorting hat. He wouldn't put it past Potter to have somehow bribed the hat into doing this for him just so he could get more attention.

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"Harry my boy, take a seat," Dumbledore extended one elegant hand towards a chair in front of his desk and Harry sat down wearily. He was not in the mood to deal with Dumbledore's antics. He just wanted to go down to the Slytherin chambers, take Snape's abuse, and then go to bed so the moment when he could ask if Ron and Hermione if they would still be friends with him would be here sooner. He could not take the anticipation. That was always the worse.

"Was there something you need, sir?" Harry said when it became clear that Dumbledore was not going to start without a little prompting.

"How do you feel about this, Harry?" Dumbledore asked. Harry sighed and forced himself to meet the elderly man's sparkling eyes.

"About the resorting, sir?" He asked, purposefully being dense. "I suppose it's good sir, for people to examine other aspects of themselves."

"How do you feel about being in Slytherin?" Dumbledore asked. "We can put you back in Gryffindor."

Harry was tempted. He was so, so tempted. But if he did this he would be exactly the type of person Snape thought him to be. Spoiled. Entitled.

"Are you offering this to others, sir?" He asked Dumbledore. "If not, sir, I'll remain in Slytherin if it's all the same to you."

"Very well Harry. You best be off so you can become accustomed to your new quarters," Dumbledore said. Harry got to his feet and left the room, feeling better than he usually did coming out of the office.

Suddenly he slammed into someone.

"Harry!" It was Ron, and Harry felt himself tense suddenly. He did not have the energy to deal with Ron's rejection right now.

"Hi Ron. Hi Hermione." He greeted his friends.

"You alright mate?" Ron asked. Harry looked at him piercingly.

"Are you guys okay with…you know, all this?" He asked. Ron looked at him steadily.

"Harry, I can be described as thick a lot of times but I'd like to think that once I make a mistake I won't make it again. I was a fool to let stupid things between us in year four, I'm not letting it happen again," Ron said. Hermione looked between her best friends and then threw an arm around them both.

"Are you crying?" Harry asked her bewilderedly.

"She is," Ron laughed.

"It's just, you boys," Hermione waved a hand at them but didn't release them.

So it was with a light heart that Harry left his friends to go down to Slytherin chambers, took Snape's expected snark, and then followed the sallow man's finger up into his dorm room.

And then he realized that he had forgotten a whole other problem. He was in the same year as Malfoy. And now he was in the same house as Malfoy. Which meant he was in the same dorm room as Malfoy. The dorm room in which Malfoy changed clothes.

Everyone was surprisingly quiet as Harry took the empty bed and shuffled through his recently relocated trunk, digging for pajamas. He looked up, wondering if they were planning on ambushing him, at the exact wrong moment. Because Malfoy was standing there. Without his shirt on.

Harry promptly found it hard to swallow and he wanted to look away but couldn't. And then Malfoy turned and Harry found his breath robbed away from him for a whole different reason.

"What?" Malfoy asked defensively. Harry shook his head innocently and crawled into his bed, drawing his curtains around him, trying to get the image burned into the back of his eyes away. It wouldn't go away, the image of Malfoy's back, pale skin perfect except for the harsh scars that ran laterally and vertically across the taunt muscles in his back. They were horrible scars that would most likely never go away or even fade.

And they were exactly like the ones Harry had on his back.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I get no monetary value from these guys. Just borrowing them.

A/N: Reviews make me work faster. Also school is starting this week so I'll be updating even slower than usual. This chapter is pretty short, but then again, aren't they all, aren't they all.

Chapter 3

People often said that Severus was a vampire. Usually it was his younger students but every now and then he hears the older students suggest it in jest and in one memorable encounter a Ministry official assumed he was one. But Severus liked to think that he was very different from a vampire. For one, he could consume garlic quite easily and for another, though his sallow complexion suggested otherwise, he enjoyed spending time in the sun. But the biggest discrepancy between vampires and Severus was the fact that vampires could not sleep and Severus liked his sleep very much.

That was why, when the alarm Severus set up to tell him when magic was being used in the dorm rooms, he was irritated. And then, when he got out of his warm, comfortable bed, and walked to the sixth years' dorm room, and found that it was Harry _bloody_ Potter who had woken him up, he was very irritated indeed.

He stalked forward, fully prepared to have the twit cleaning his dungeons for detention until he graduated and then pulled up shortly when he saw that Potter was trembling in his bed. As he watched the teenager lurched awake, rolling off of his bed and landing heavily on his knees, shaking as he emptied his stomach on the floor.

For a second Severus could not tell what spell had been cast and then realized, as Potter retched again, that the scene he was creating was completely devoid of sound. He cast a canceling spell and moved forward, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. He whipped around, his wand ready in his hand and Severus raised his hands.

"Professor?" Potter stared blearily at him, and blast it, why did he have to have Lily's eyes?

"Yes Potter, are you done?" Severus asked, though not unkindly. He was shaken by the way Potter's body was shivering violently even in the warm dorm and how his face looked so unguarded as he stared at his snarly professor.

"I think so, yes," Potter said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

"Then go to the lavatory and clean yourself. I'll take care of this mess," Severus sent Potter on his way; watching the teen totter unsteadily to the wash room and then scourgified the mess he had left behind.

"I didn't know it was that bad," A small voice said to his right. Severus turned and met his godson's eyes through the darkness of the room.

"I don't think anybody did," Severus said as the boy in question came back and settled uncertainly on his bed, watching Severus with an infuriating undecipherable look. "Is the concept of going back to sleep foreign to you, Potter?"

"Thank you, Professor," Potter said, instead of getting back under the covers.

"Does this happen often?" Severus asked, avoiding the gratitude that made him uncomfortable. What happened to the obstinate Potter that he knew how to deal with?

"Most nights, yeah," Potter said.

"Have you tried Dreamless Sleep Potion?" Severus asked. Potter's nose wrinkled and Severus pretended that it didn't remind him painfully of the boy's mother.

"It isn't really dreams that are bugging me, sir." He said. Severus was surprised with his honesty and went back to something normal, that he knew how to do. Comforting was impossible. Disciplining he could do.

"I seem to recall telling you that no spells were to be done in the dorm rooms, Mr. Potter," Severus said. "What part of no spells do you not understand?"

"The 'no' part?" Potter said cheekily, much more like the usual boy Severus had to deal with. "It was an accident sir."

"Students in their sixth year at Hogwarts should have better control than casting accidental magic." Severus admonished.

"I'm just used to make sure I don't bother anybody," Potter said, and the unguarded expression was disappearing, and he was crawling into his bed, and arrogant Potter was once again in his place. "Would you rather I wake everybody up?"

"I would rather you sleep throughout the night without needing assistance like a newborn," Severus barked and then instantly felt ashamed of himself. It was an entirely inappropriate low blow to make the boy feel bad about something that was completely out of his control. That was the issue, when he was with Potter. It was like the filter between his mouth and his brain was gone and he was a teenager again, using whatever he could to get back at his enemies.

"Well, I didn't ask for your help," Potter said. "I was doing just fine without you. I've been managing on my own for sixteen years, I didn't ask for anyone to come and stick their nose in my business."

Severus was so, so tempted to take points away but then he remembered that Potter was one of his own snakes now, and that would just be counterproductive.

"Go to sleep Potter and do not make me come in here again," He said instead, and then swept away, unaware just how much the boy he left behind was hurting.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I hate disclaimers. If I really was J.K. Rowling, would I be writing crappy fanfiction? I think not.

A/N: Pretty short, but you know, you get what you get and don't get upset.

Chapter 4

When Draco woke up, for a moment he didn't remember that everything had changed. He didn't remember that Harry _bloody_ Potter was now a Slytherin, that Harry _bloody_ Potter had seen his scars, that Harry _bloody_ Potter was asleep in a bed two feet away from him.

Then reality came rushing back and he remembered. He opened his eyes and peered across the room at the boy in question. He was asleep on his side, knees curled up to his chest, looking perfectly innocent in slumber. One might even say he looked adorable, but Draco was not a Hufflepuff, thank you very much.

That's not to say that this thing (he refused to call it a crush), he had with Potter was not a persistent Hufflepuff emotion. He should have been able to just let go the irritating boy when he was just starting his education and his friendship had been turned down. But even at age eleven he had found those green eyes impossible to forget.

And now, after Potter was responsible for putting his father in jail, well, this _thing_ had just gotten even stronger. Because Potter had done what Draco could not, and freed him from his father's harsh and tyrannical grip. And though Draco was loath to become just another number of the people the Golden Boy had saved, Potter really had saved him.

Potter rolled over in his bed, blinking quizzically up at the ceiling for a few moments, most likely trying to remember where he was.

"If it takes you this long to wake up, I'm surprised no Death Eaters have killed you yet," Draco said, though it was too early for him to work up the proper amount of bite in his voice to be insulting. Potter jerked, hastily pulling down the back of his shirt, which had hiked up in his sleep, and grabbed his glasses, shoving them roughly onto his face.

"Smooth," Draco snorted, curling around a pillow and facing him. Perhaps it was the early hour, or the fact that Draco was in his home, but the word was not as harsh as he wanted it to be and it was accompanied by a smile that Draco absolutely did not give permission for. But if a little voice inside his head was obsessing over how Potter looked with his hair even more mussed than usual, well, he wouldn't deny that voice the pleasure.

"Shut up Malfoy," Potter said, though his voice too was unheated, almost soft. Immediately Draco wondered if maybe they could be connecting, but then he remembered that Potter had seen his scars, and maybe all of his niceness was just coming from pity. If there was one thing that Draco hated the most, it was pity. So he reacted the only way he knew how.

"Don't," He warned, getting to his feet.

"Don't what?" Potter asked, his eyes widening.

"Don't pity me," Draco said, grabbing his robes and going to the lavatory so quickly that he missed Potter's last words.

"I don't pity you." He whispered. "I think you're stronger than we ever gave you credit for."


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own any of it. Quite possible not even the plot, though I promise I made it up by myself. But that's not to say others haven't either. Or me in an alternate universe hasn't made up this plot either.

A/N: This will have slash, Severitus, and allude to child abuse, so if you don't like it (not the child abuse part, nobody likes that, I assure you, unless they are quite sick) don't read it.

Chapter 5

"So how bad it is?" Ron asked around a mouthful of eggs. Harry took a bite of his own toast and swallowed before answering. He probably should tell them of his strange encounter with Snape last night, when the man almost resembled nice, but he didn't understand it himself, so he would keep that for later.

"It was alright," He shrugged. It had been lonely, sure, not being able to sit in front of the fire next to Ron and Hermione before bed and talk, but no one had pounced on him and tried to kill him yet, so that was always a plus.

"Was Malfoy a right git?" Ron asked. Hermione elbowed him so hard he almost choked and he turned an incredulous look at her. Hermione sent a just as indecipherable look back at him, shooting glances at Harry every few seconds, and Ron flushed.

"What?" Harry asked, looking down at himself. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Nothing," Hermione said, hurriedly putting a piece of sausage in her mouth.

"Really, what is it?" Harry asked, taking a second to count his blessings that he was not so angry as he was last year, or else he would have exploded by now.

"It's just, you know, I said something about Malfoy," Ron said. Harry raised an eyebrow. "And you've got your whole thing with Malfoy."

"What thing with Malfoy?" Harry demanded.

"You know, you're, well, you're _crush_," Hermione said, her voice dropping to a whisper. Harry groaned and dropped his forehead down on the table, luckily moving the plate out of the way just in time. Both of his best friends were silent and he looked up.

"How long have you guys known about it?" He asked.

"I've known since third year when you glanced back at him after I punched him in the nose," Hermione confessed. "Sorry."

"If it's an consolation, I only knew after last year, when you spent the whole time in Umbridge's office shooting looks at him even though he was holding us hostage." Ron consoled.

"Why didn't you guys say something?" Harry asked, thinking back on all the times he had covered this part of himself.

"Well, we thought you'd tell us when you were ready," Hermione said. Harry pushed his eggs around with his fork and then looked up, his face ablaze.

"And you guys are alright with, you know?" He asked.

"You liking blokes, or you liking Malfoy?" Ron asked. "Because I'm alright with you liking blokes, we have a running bet in my house if whether or not Charlie does, but liking Malfoy? You're bloody bonkers, mate."

"I know," Harry groaned, looking back at where Malfoy was sitting.

"He's such a git," Ron added, shoveling food into his mouth at rapid speed as people started to file out of the great hall.

"It's part of his charm," Harry admitted, getting to his feet.

Ron choked.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the annoying grammar and spelling mistakes I keep making. Lo siento.

A/N: Okay, so I just want people to know that I will take prompts. I'm not sure if anybody wants to give them, or if I will do any good by them, but that option is out there for all the categories I write for. Also, if anybody reading this is British, could you possibly tell me a couple of phrases used commonly, so I can make this story more realistic?

* * *

Chapter 6

Draco took a bite of his scone, never looking away from where he was watching Potter as he ate breakfast with his friends. He was horribly worked up over something, and Draco wished to know what it was.

Purely for blackmail reasons, that is. Not because he thought that Potter was cute when he was flustered.

"Draco, take a moment from your Potter staring and join us, would you?" Pansy asked, good-naturedly. Draco reluctantly turned away from Potter and looked at her.

"I was simply wondering why Potter was not sitting at his house's table," Draco said stiffly. Blaise snorted from across from him.

"Yeah, that's it," He said disbelievingly. He glanced behind him and then back. "I don't think that there is any rule that says you have to sit at your house's table."

"You're just sad because he isn't sitting beside you," Pansy said. Draco scowled at her and she laughed.

"Was there something that you guys needed, when you so rudely interrupted my pondering?" Draco asked.

"Pondering how good Potter's arse looked today, maybe," Pansy said. Draco got up and they reigned in their snickers. "In all honesty, though, Dumbledore wanted to speak to you about something."

"Probably the whole spy thing," Draco said quietly. They nodded seriously and Draco was glad once again that he told them about how he had been propositioned the Dark Mark. There was no way that he could have survived the pressure of having the Dark Mark but not wanting to be a Deatheater without his friends. "I should probably go."

"See you later," Blaise said.

* * *

Draco sat down in the Potions classroom, taking his usual seat. His godfather was at his desk in front of the class, showing no signs of starting the class until he was ready, though it was due to start in less than ten seconds.

Potter skidded into the room in the last second and looked around, his perfect face falling when he realized that the only seat left was the one next to Draco. Draco pretended that didn't hurt him as much as it did.

"Take a seat, Mr. Potter," Severus said idly. Potter approached the empty seat cautiously and then sat down, sending a careful look at Draco. Draco felt his short patience, worn thin by his meeting with Dumbledore, snap.

"You don't have to look at me like that, Potter, I'm not going to break," He said heatedly as Snape flicked his wand and the chalk started writing the potion they would be doing today.

"I'm not looking at you like anything," Potter said, grabbing his knife and starting to chop the root that was in front of him.

"Yes, you are," Draco argued.

"No, I'm not. I'm looking at you like you jumped down my throat the last time I talked to you," Potter corrected. Draco found himself stunned for a moment and he struggled to find the appropriate response. Was it possible that Potter didn't pity him?

"You're doing that wrong." Draco said instead, stopping Potter's hand. Potter looked down and then squinted at the board.

"I am not, it says diced," He said. Draco looked up at the board and then back at Potter.

"Can you not read?" He asked. "It clearly says sliced. Now we have to start all over again."

"It doesn't look that clear to me," Potter mumbled under his breath, sliding the diced roots off of the cutting board. Draco spared a glance at him and then looked away. The board wasn't that far away. Potter should have been able to see it.

Draco pushed three rat tails into their cauldron and pushed the thought away, vowing to talk to his Godfather about it later.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I own nobody. No matter how many times I write these disclaimers, that will never change.

A/N: I don't have anything to say here, but I love writing authors notes, so here it is.

Chapter 7

Harry turned the page of his book, glancing up and around languidly. It was surprisingly easy to be comfortable here. He hadn't expected it to be so.

A lot of Slytherins hated him. Besides Malfoy, he had no idea why. He had barely looked at half of them, never mind spoken to one of them. He didn't know why, exactly, Slytherin had it out for him, and in a way that was a lot more intense than the normal House rivalry.

But in their dorm room there was no animosity, or if there was it was very well hidden. Harry almost felt safe, which was weird. It wasn't as if he had friends here. But the dark colors and warm dorms were soothing, enough like the cupboard to sooth him, like the moments when he wanted to be in it, the safe haven, but spacious enough that he didn't feel his claustrophobia start to creep up and have a panic attack. And his bed was warm and comfortable.

Harry felt his eyes drifting and he closed his book, bookmarking the page he was on, and taking off his glasses. He probably wouldn't fall asleep, it was too early, but his eyes hurt a little with the usual coming of a headache and closing them for a while usually helped. In the background he could hear Malfoy and Blaise bickering, but their voices were both warm and it was oddly rhythmic, like a lullaby.

Ten minutes later and Harry was doubting his earlier statement. He was almost asleep, his brain going into the fuzzy place where things were blurred.

"Potter," A blurred hand reached for Harry's shoulder and he rolled over on instinct, raising himself up on his elbows. He squinted at the dark blurry form.

"Professor?" He asked. His glasses were shoved at him and he put them on quick enough to see that the man was rolling his eyes. "Thanks," He said automatically.

"You are needed in the infirmary," Snape told him. Harry got to his feet numbly, his face emotionless, though inside his mind was racing. Was somebody he knew hurt? No, someone else would probably come and get him if that was the case. But did that mean that they knew his secret? Had he been found out? But how could they have known? Harry was good at keeping his secret. He had years of practice.

"Why?" Harry finally asked as they were walking down the hall.

"It has come to my attention that you need better glasses, because you have terrible eye sight." Snape said sharply, as if this was a great burden to him. Harry bit his lip to keep from remarking that he didn't have to do this, that he was the one that had sought Harry out. Harry had been managing with terrible glasses since he was three years old.

Suddenly he was struck with a thought. Who had told Snape that he needed better glasses? Hermione and Ron probably suspected that he could barely see _with_ his glasses, but he doubted they had said anything. And he had only spoken about his inability to see with one other person.

Did that mean that Draco had told Snape?

But, why would he do that?


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything. I own nothing. Alas, that is the way of the world.

A/N: Review, please. I love them so much. They make my day. Also, if anybody knows the full list of Slytherins in Harry's year, I would appreciate it if they would share.

Chapter 8

Draco turned slightly, just enough to be able to tell that yes, indeed, Potter was still staring at him. And although Draco didn't altogether mind those beautiful green eyes looking at him, it was annoying, because Draco had no idea why Potter was staring at him. It had been going on for a while, since they had all gone down to the Common Room to study and play games. It was the weekend, so not a lot of people had homework to be done, and those who did were over in the corner with Severus, inquiring after his help when needed. Draco himself was sitting on a couch with Theo, Blaise, Pansy, and Daphne, sorting off into teams to have a wizard's chess tournament.

He looked back at his friends only to find that they had paired off without him.

"Ask Potter to play," Pansy suggested. Draco looked back. Potter did look kind of pitiful, all alone on the couch.

"Potter!" Draco shouted. The boy in question's brow furrowed and he looked around, as if expecting another person named Potter to suddenly appear. "Yes, you, Potter. Get over here!"

Draco pretended that the look Potter sent him did not make his stomach flutter.

* * *

Severus neared his group of sixth years, surprised to find Potter's familiar messy head amidst the rest. After going to Poppy's and realizing that Potter's glasses were horribly out of date, he had begun to have doubts about Potter's privileged life. But he realized that it may have just been because Potter was too proud to admit that he had a fault.

"I'm sorry, how did you get into Slytherin again?" His godson was asking as Potter stared at the chess board.

"I told you I was bad at chess!" Potter defended himself. Severus stared at them, surprised that Draco and Potter were right next to each other, clearly on the same team, their highly contrasting heads bent towards the chess board.

"I thought you were being modest," Draco drawled, glancing at the boy next to him. Severus realized with horror that his voice sounded almost fond.

Oh Merlin, no.

Severus knew that his godson preferred men. Draco had told him, way back in the third year. But did he have to like _Potter_? As if the boy really needed a reason for his head to become more inflated.

"Well, clearly, I wasn't," Potter said. Draco snorted.

"Behold, ladies and gentlemen, Harry, the Boy Who Lived, stater of all obvious." Draco said in a mock announcement voice. Severus was nearly sick when he saw that Potter did not miss what Draco just said either.

Draco had called him Harry.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I'm not even blond, never mind anywhere close to rich. For anybody who doesn't get that, it means that I am not J.K. Rowling.

A/N: So the actual plot of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince is going to be the same, kind of, but unless it is being changed it will kind of be in the background and the story will more focus on Harry and his abuse being found out. So assume that the plot is the same unless I say it isn't.

Chapter 9

Harry left Dumbledore's office, his mind whirling. The memory that Dumbledore had just shown him certainly made him think, that was sure. It was strange to think that Voldemort had once been an innocent orphan. Well, not innocent, that's for sure. Even at that age he seemed to have a cruelty that Harry couldn't even comprehend.

"Hi Harry," Theo nodded at him, falling in step with him.

"Hi Theo," Harry greeted him. Ever since the night when Harry had played, and lost, the chess games with the Slytherins they seemed to have opened up to him, and dare he say it, they might have even been friends. And even though Draco and Harry still bickered, it wasn't as mean as it once was. It was the kind of bickering that friends do and it hardly ever left Harry with the urge to chuck a book, preferably heavy, at his perfect blond head anymore.

Harry didn't even pretend to himself that this new found friendship didn't make his heart sing with joy.

"Where did you come from?" Theo asked.

"Dumbledore's office," Harry explained. "You?"

"I was finishing dinner. Everyone else had finished and left," Theo said. They walked in silence down towards the dungeons and Harry barely spared a thought when he spoke the now familiar password.

"Hi Harry," A fourth year Slytherin smiled at Harry and leaned over the arm of the couch.

"Hi," Harry said, barely paying attention to her as he continued up to their dorm room. He was exhausted, he suddenly realized. Dealing with Dumbledore often left him in such a condition. Theo snorted as he followed after him and Harry turned to look at him. Theo gave him an innocent look in response.

"Password!" Blaise demanded when Harry attempted to get into the dorm room. Harry looked at Theo, who shrugged.

"I didn't know we had a password for our dorm room," Harry said, speaking through the door.

"No password, no entry," Blaise said cheerfully. Harry looked suspiciously at the door.

"Are you drunk?" He asked.

"Of course not," Blaise scoffed, though it wasn't very reassuring. Harry heard Draco chuckle.

"Let them in, Blaise," Draco said. The door swung open slowly and Harry entered. Blaise did indeed look slightly out of his usual flawless composure, though Draco looked as pristine as ever, perched upon his bed like a prince. "Blaise took a sip of an Out of Character potion it seems."

Harry heard Theo asks more about the potion that had apparently been consumed, but it was distant, in the back of his mind. He had caught sight of his target and nothing else existed. He flopped down on his bed, pulling his glasses off and curling under the blanket it one motion. He blinked his eyes open once, catching sight of the light reflecting off of Draco's shiny blond hair, before he fell into slumber.

* * *

Harry lurched unpleasantly into consciousness, his fingers fisted roughly in the dark green blanket that was lying on top of him. His dream, or nightmare, flickered behind his eyelids, but it had been the usual. Never less horrific, but at least he was starting to become used to them. He shoved on his glasses and glanced around. Theo and Blaise were fast asleep, Theo sprawled across his bed and Blaise mumbling slightly as he shifted. Harry turned to look at Draco, surprised to find the blond tossing in his sleep, his brow furrowed. He muttered something and Harry knew the signs well enough to realize that he was having a nightmare. Harry got carefully to his feet and padded across the room, careful not to wake the other sleeping boys in the room.

Draco's blanket was on the floor and Harry stooped to pick it up before laying a gentle hand on Draco's shoulder.

"Draco, wake up," He whispered, gently shaking the slumbering boy. "It's just a dream, Draco."

"No, Father, just leave me alone, I'll do better," Draco mumbled, flinching away from the hand. It struck Harry suddenly that it was not just a dream, but that Draco was reliving a memory.

"It's okay Draco, you're at Hogwarts," Harry said, shaking a little more persistently. "Wake up, Draco!"

The blond boy startled awake, jerking away from the looming finger before his eyes focused and realized that it was Harry. Harry smiled in a way he hoped didn't look psychotic.

"Are you okay?" He asked, which was a stupid question, because Draco had been abused, and that never left someone okay. Harry knew that firsthand.

"I'm fine," Draco said stiffly, wiping a sleeve across his sweaty forehead.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Harry offered half-heartedly.

"Do you want to talk about your dreams, Potter?" Draco asked.

"I will if you will," Harry said, perching on the edge of Draco's bed.

"Why would I want to hear about your dreams, get your filthy arse off of my bed," Draco said, unheated, his silver blue eyes soft as his foot reached out and nudged Harry lackadaisically in the butt.

"It was the graveyard," Harry said quietly. "It's always the same. I see Cedric, I see myself convincing him to take the thing that will lead to his death, and then I see him dying. Because of me."

Draco watched him carefully, perhaps knowing better than to argue that it was not Harry's fault and then simply said, "It was my father."

Harry nodded, scooting more securely onto the bed and pulling his knees up to his chest. Draco took the blanket from his hands and placed it over both of their legs, and quietly, cautious of the other people who slept in the room, the two boys with contrasting hair, told each other of the monsters that they could not fight on their own.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I own all the Harry Potter books. But I didn't write them.

A/N: I actually have no idea where I am going with this. So bear with me, please. And, if you'd like, I would very much appreciate reviews.

Chapter 10

Pansy knocked impatiently on the door of the boys' dorm. It was the weekend and everyone was scheduled to go to Hogsmeade today and none of the boys had come down yet. Snape refused to let anyone go until he knew exactly who was going, to ensure that he didn't replace any of his snakes. While it was heartwarming, that he cared, it also meant that the girls had to wait for the boys to get their acts together.

Pansy reached up to knock once again and the door swung open, revealing Blaise. She opened her mouth and Blaise hurriedly shushed her.

"Why?" Pansy asked in a whisper. Blaise ushered her wordlessly inside and pointed to Draco's bed. Which held more than Draco in it.

Pansy moved forward carefully, lest she wake them, her hand covering her mouth. Draco had his arm around Harry, his face peaceful as the Boy Who Lived slumbered in his arms. Their hair was mingling, the bright blond in deep contrast with the dark messy black.

"Good for them," She said, raising a single eyebrow. Her face was calm, despite the fact that inwardly she was marveling over the cuteness in this scene. But she had a reputation to uphold, after all.

* * *

Harry woke up slowly, puzzling over the warmth over his waist. Then he suddenly realized that it was an arm, that it was Draco's arm.

This situation required the utmost skill and subtlety, probably more than any other situation he had ever been in. He slowly started moving, gently pulling Draco's finger from where they were threaded through his pajamas at his hip, and sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. Draco shifted and he froze, praying that he would stay asleep for just a few moments longer. Harry brought his head through the loop of Draco's arm just as Draco's arm tightened around the space that would be his waist, ultimately choking Harry.

He squirmed gently, trying not to wake Draco still, and then when that didn't work he thrashed slightly. It wasn't like Draco's arm was tight enough to actually deprive him of oxygen, but this was pretty awkward.

At that exact moment Draco woke up, his gray eyes observing Harry with confusion for a couple of seconds before he picked up his arm and started laughing. Harry straightened to his feet, his face bright red, and escaped to his bed, digging through his trunk to keep his eyes off of Draco.

"Harry," Draco called from across the room, his laughter slowly subsiding. "Harry," He said, more serious than before. Harry looked up and he smiled softly. "No nightmares?"

"No nightmares," Harry said. "You?"

"No nightmares."

* * *

Harry wandered down the crowded Hogsmeade street, his breath puffing out in front of him. He jammed his hands into his jacket and followed after Draco, searching for Hermione and Ron. He wasn't sure if he wanted to find them. They were his friends, yes, but the Slytherins were also his friends now, and he really didn't want to have to choose between them.

"Harry!" A familiar female voice said from behind him. He paused and his Gryffindor friends caught up. Hermione threaded her arm through his and then started pulling him in the same directions as Draco as the blond boy waited patiently for them.

"Weasel," He greeted Ron.

"Ferret," Ron nodded back.

It was almost civil.

* * *

Draco held up a candy, reading the back. It looked suspicious, but it was magic, so you never knew whether it was good or bad.

Dung Pop.

Definitely not good.

"That'll probably make your breath smell," Harry noted, leaning slightly against him.

"I wasn't thinking of buying it," Draco said, affronted. Harry shrugged.

"To each their own, I suppose," He said. Draco placed the Dung Pop back on the shelf.

"You ready to go join the rest in another store?"

"Yeah, just let me go pay for these things, okay?" Harry asked. Draco nodded, amused that this boy didn't know that he would wait forever for him, and continued browsing as he disappeared. A sudden mayhem filled the shop, near the counter, and Draco pushed his way through to find Harry sprawled across the floor, his hands cupping his nose as blood dripped through.

"Harry?" Draco leaned forward and grabbed him by his armpits, sitting him up.

"I'm alright," Harry said. Draco reached into his robes and pulled out a handkerchief, pressing it gently against the bloody nose as people continued to move around him.

"What happened?" Draco asked.

"Ravenclaw, prejudice against Slytherin," Harry explained in a nasally tone.

"Somebody hit you?" Draco asked in a dark voice. He stood up, prepared to make the person rue the day, but was stopped by thin fingers encircling his wrist.

"Just leave it alone," Harry said, shaking his head. Draco sat down next to him, simmering, and then smiled.

"Fine. But I'm telling Professor Snape."


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I realized, while reading the books once again, that J.K. Rowling is an absolute genius. I wish I was as smart as her. But I'm not.

A/N: I have a busy weekend, so I'm trying to update all my stories on Friday. As always, reviews would be very much appreciated.

Chapter 11

Draco stalked down the hallway of Hogwarts, infuriated. Part of his irritation was because people were so prejudice against Slytherin, and not just the people on the good side either. Even Voldemort expected everyone in Slytherin to join him. It was so hard for Slytherin to become someone respected because people never gave them the chance to.

That was part of the reason why Draco was angry. The major reason was that someone had hit Harry. His beautiful face was marred by an already darkening bruise, his nose rapidly swelling, and just looking at him made Draco's anger spike dangerously.

"Draco, wait a second," The Boy Who Was Punched pled. Draco continued on, not even looking back. "Draco, please."

It was the use of please that had Draco slowing and looking back. Harry was trying to keep up, but his glasses were in his hand instead of on his face, as to not further irritate his nose, and Draco could tell he was having some issues with depth perception.

"Sorry," He said, going back and grabbing Harry's arm to guide him. He suppressed an inappropriate action that stemmed from actually touching Harry and guided him forward.

"Did you just apologize?" Harry asked, grinning. Draco glanced at him and became slightly distracted by the sight of those brilliant green eyes unmarred by his glasses.

"Don't get used to it," He warned, looking away and trying to regain his composure. "I was simply apologizing to the world that they had to deal with someone who has such horrible eyesight."

"Git," Harry scowled. They fell silent for a moment and then Harry remembered where they were going. "Do you really have to go and tell Snape?"

"Snape will help you," Draco said confidently. He knew his Godfather had some issues with the Chosen One, but he was not the type of person to turn away a hurting child.

"Or he will bully me until I want to make his face look similar to mine," Harry griped. Draco laughed and turned the corner. "I really don't think that we need to go and tell Snape."

"We do," Draco said, stopping in front of the familiar door to the Potions classroom.

"Can't we just go to Pomfrey's?" Harry tried again.

"You are a Slytherin, you can go to your Head of House," Draco said, though that wasn't the real reason that he wanted Harry to go to Snape. He knew that despite the man's obvious distaste of the boy, he was the one teacher who Draco was certain wouldn't allow that Ravenclaw to go unpunished.

"Please?" Harry pled, catching Draco's arm when he attempted to open the door. The tug resulted in Draco turning around, his back to the door. He looked up and became utterly distracted by the fact that Harry Potter's green eyes were staring intensely at him, that Harry bloody Potter was mere millimeters away from him, Harry Potter's breath blowing across his face.

"Did you eat that Pop?" Harry asked. Draco's brow furrowed.

"What?" He asked, wondering if he was imagining it or if he was getting closer.

"The Dung Pop?" Harry asked.

"What? No, of course not," Draco said, offended. Harry smiled blindingly.

"Brilliant," Harry hissed, before his lips were pressed against Draco's. Draco froze for a moment, stunned that Harry was kissing him, then spurred into action.

It wasn't perfect, as Harry was at an odd angle to make sure he didn't aggravate his face injury and Draco was hesitant to really kiss back and hurt him, but it was still possibly the best thing that had ever happened to Draco. Harry's lips were slightly chapped, probably from being out in the cold at Hogsmeade, but they were warm and soft, and even if they weren't Draco still would have continued kissing him because it was Harry bloody Potter, the boy he had an obsession with since first year, that he had dreamed about since third year.

It may have been an eternity, or only a couple minutes, Draco's mind was too blown to know which, when Harry pulled away, and smiled sheepishly.

"Did you just kiss me so we didn't have to go into Snape's office?" Draco asked, the thought occurring to him only as he said it.

"No!" Harry said. "Well, I mean, I kissed you so we didn't have to go in, but not because of that. I mean, it's what spurred me into action, but that's not why I did it. I did it because I, well, like you."

"I, well, like you too," Draco said, amused as Harry grew more flustered. "But we still have to go and see Snape."

"Why?" Harry whined, leaning forward and pressing hesitant yet effective kisses to Draco's jaw. Draco sucked in a breath and tried to remember his argument, then ditched the earlier one for a new, and much improved, one.

"Imagine how we can kiss once your nose is better," Draco said. Harry pulled back, green eyes regarding him carefully, and then frowned.

"I suppose we can go in then," He said. Draco smiled and pushed open the door.

That meant that there would be more kissing, right?


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I own nothing and nobody.

A/N: Here we are. Reviews are much appreciated. Those who don't will be subjected to the Cruciatus curse.

Chapter 12

Harry followed hesitantly after Draco, surprised when Draco entered without knocking and Snape didn't threaten to kill him instantly.

How was that fair?

If Harry entered without knocking Snape would probably fire an Unforgivable at him. But Draco just strolled in with his usual swagger and Snape said not a word.

"Draco," He drawled, his face darkening when he realized that Harry was following him into the room. "Mr. Potter."

"Professor Snape," Harry nodded, trying to remain civil, though he knew it was always a matter of time. He always tried to start civilly, but then Snape started on him about being lazy, or privileged, or whatever he felt like on that particular day, and it reminded Harry far too much about being back at Privet Drive to take it. At least here he could talk back, defend himself, without being fearful of getting smacked without repercussions.

"What happened to your face, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked. Harry wrinkled his nose and then stopped abruptly when he realized that was causing more pain. You'd think, after how many he'd suffered from, that he'd remember what movements he could make without hurting a bruised nose.

"He was punched," Draco said, leaning languidly against a desk. His cheeks were still slightly pink from being at Hogsmeade, perhaps sun burned or wind burned, but he looked just as sexy as ever. He sent Harry a look with his silver blue eyes and Harry's stomach flip flopped.

"How long ago?" Snape asked, approaching Harry. Harry eyed him suspiciously and he rolled his dark eyes before gently probing Harry's face. Harry resisted the urge to flinch and grimaced at the man who clearly thought asking for permission was beneath him.

"Probably about an hour," Draco answered again for Harry, which Harry supposed was good, as Snape's hands were still on his face. They were surprisingly soft and warm. Harry expected them to be cold, he didn't know why, perhaps because of all the rumors about him being a vampire, but they were actually warm and tender against his bruise, tilting his head this way and that.

"Run into my storage and grab an anti-swelling potion as well as a vial of bruise removal cream," Snape ordered. Harry made to move, stupidly, but he was so used to being treated like a house elf, and then realized that Snape was talking to Draco. Draco disappeared into the storage room and left Harry in a very awkward situation with Snape.

"Did you get in fight?" Snape asked, his voice slight rougher, like Harry was used to. Harry made to shake his head and then thought better of it.

"No, it was a guy who was convinced I had gone over to the Dark Side," Harry said.

"Simply a bully?" Snape asked, his voice almost soft. Harry wished that Draco would get back out here. Though he was no longer touching him, Snape was still uncomfortably close, about a foot away, and he was staring with weird intensity at him.

"Just a bully," Harry said, wondering what kind of strange universe he was in, in which he was agreeing with Snape, of all people.

"Have you told the Headmaster?" Snape asked him. Harry shook his head.

"I'm used to bullies," He said. Snape stared at him and Harry found that he could not look away until Draco walked back into the room.

"Swallow this," Snape ordered him. Harry swallowed it back, wincing at the rancid taste. Snape pressed another vial into his hand. "And apply this after your shower,"

"Thank you," Draco said, his eyes intent on Harry's face in such a way that made Harry's face heat up. He gingerly pressed against his nose, surprised to find that it had shrunk back to its normal size already. No matter how many times magic healed him, he still found it amazing.

"Yes, thank you," Harry said. He pocketed the vial and stared at Draco.

"We'll leave you, then." Draco said. He left the room and Harry followed after with one last glance at Snape. The sallow man was still staring at him with that unnamable look, even as he shut the door to the Potions classroom.

"Does your nose still hurt?" Draco asked him as they started down the hall.

"A little, when you touch it," Harry said.

"I guess I'll have to settle for this, then," Draco said, reaching over and taking Harry's hand in his. "At least until after you shower."

There had been times when Harry had been denied the ability of using the shower, or at least a warm one. He was always anxious to take one when he got to Hogwarts, to wipe off the grime and shame of the summer.

But never before had he been as eager for a shower as he was now.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all. I own nothing.

A/N: I have gotten some complaints about how short my chapters are, and I'm sorry, but that's just the way I work. I'm sorry if this causes aggression in some people. Also, thank you very much to EmptyOrFull for her constant heartwarming reviews.

Chapter 13

Harry stepped into his dorm room, going straight to his trunk at the foot of his bed and pulling out a baggy pair of jeans and a sweater that Dudley had outgrown when he was ten.

"I'm going to the shower," He told Draco. Draco sauntered into the room and lounged across Harry's bed, smirking.

"Can I Slytherin?" He asked. Harry was struck dumb for a moment, Draco's words and the fact that he was lounging comfortably across Harry's bed, making him almost start to nod, and then remembered that he should think with his head, instead of another piece of anatomy. If he got in the shower with Draco, Draco would see him naked. And those scars on his back were just a little bit hard to explain away.

Before he could say anything, Draco laughed, a joyous sound that rang throughout the dorm, his head tilted back in jubilation.

"Don't worry Potter, your innocence is safe, I was only joking," He said, his gray eyes warm. Harry frowned.

"I really wish you wouldn't call me that," He complained.

"What?" Draco asked. "Potter?"

"Yes, my name is Harry," Harry said. It wasn't as if the Dursleys ever respected him enough to actually call him a real name, but the evasion of his name was too similar for Harry to like, especially if he was kissing someone and they couldn't even call him his first name.

"Alright then," Draco said. "Harry it is."

"Thank you," Harry said, going into the adjoining bathroom, only just barely hearing Draco grumble about stupidly grateful Gryffindors.

* * *

Draco lay across Harry's bed, astounded at how much it smelled like Harry. He supposed it made sense, since it was Harry's bed, but it was still overwhelmingly pleasant. He gathered up Harry's pillow and held it to his nose for a couple of seconds before forcing himself to put it back, knowing it would be rather hard to explain away if anyone else came back to their room.

Instead he turned on his side and allowed himself to bask in his happiness for just a moment. Harry _bloody_ Potter had just kissed him. Snogged him, really. And Draco was pretty sure that this was not a dream, because if it was then Harry would have not refused his offer for him to join him in the shower.

That was okay though. Draco was more than willing to allow this to go slow. If that was what Harry wanted, that was what Harry would have. This could quite possibly be the best thing that had ever happened to him and he was not going to ruin it right when it was starting out.

Draco forced his thoughts away from Harry and going slow, shifting on the bed. His neck hit something and Draco dug around under the pillow, pulling out the worn book.

_Swiss Family Robinson _The cover sported. Draco glanced at the lavatory door and then away.

Reading would probably do him a bit off good right now.

* * *

Draco glanced up when he heard the soft pad of bare feet, tossing the book off to the side. Harry smiled at him and walked rather hesitantly towards him for someone who had just snogged him breathless.

Harry perched on the edge of the bed and held out the small vial of bruise cream that Snape had given him.

"Would you?" He asked hesitantly. Draco sat up and dipped his finger in the cool ointment.

"Of course," Draco said. "Take off of your glasses."

Harry removed his glasses and Draco moved closer, gently putting the salve on Harry's nose. Harry's breath ghosted across his face and he had to remind himself to breathe.

"What's your favorite color?" Harry asked randomly. Draco found himself playing along, mostly to distract Harry from looking so hesitant.

"Green," He said, not mentioning that until he had come to Hogwarts his favorite color had been silver. "What's yours?"

"Dunno," Harry said, glancing into his eyes for a second. "Probably red?"

Draco sat back for a moment and levelled a look at him. Harry blushed slightly.

"What?" Harry demanded.

"Where is your Slytherin pride?" Draco asked, leaning back forward and spreading more of the salve across his face. Harry opened his mouth to answer and Draco placed a quieting finger on his lips, ignoring the small thrill that went through him as he touched his lips. "What's your favorite food?"

"Treacle tart," Harry said. Draco committed that fact to memory for later. "What's yours?"

"Bangers and mash," Draco said. Harry laughed, a disbelieving look on his face.

"That's really your favorite food?" Harry asked.

"Yes," Draco said, a little bit defending. "Why are you making that face?"

"Well, just sometimes, you act a little bit entitled," Harry said. "And that is a very common folk food."

"I do not act entitled," Draco said, poking him in the stomach. Harry grabbed at the offending hand with both hands and a new question occurred to Draco. It was a little bit shameful that he did not know the answer to this one, based on how much he had watched the Boy Who Lived. "Which hand is your wand hand?"

"I'm right handed," Harry said, waving the hand across Draco's face. Draco caught it quickly and turned it around.

"What is this?" Draco asked, examining the shiny scar tissue that was shaped perfectly in words.

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, pulling his hand out of Draco's grasp. Draco leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Harry's lips around his bruised nose, before pulling him to his feet.

"Are we going to Snape again?" Harry asked, resisting Draco just long enough to grab his glasses.

"You bet your arse we are," Draco said darkly. Someone had used Dark Magic against Harry.

Draco hoped Severus would use his Death Eater training against whoever did it.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns all. ALL.

A/N: I have finally discovered where I am going with this thing. (Also known as…the plot). Hurray! So people, know that now I really am going somewhere with this.

Chapter 14

Severus stared down at the horrible essay, trying to focus. The handwriting was simply awful, and Severus checked the top to make sure that it was not written by Potter. He suppressed a swear when his mind suddenly returned to the topic he was trying to evade.

Harry James Potter.

A couple of weeks ago Severus would have said with utter certainty that Potter was a bully. A day ago he would have said Potter was used to being worshipped. But now, he was almost sure that Potter was not the bully, but the bullied. The look on his face, when he had said he was used to bullies, had been sincere, and resigned. Exactly the face all bullied children wore. Exactly the face Severus wore. Bullies did that to a person, made them give up a part of their spirit. And although Potter still had a lot of spirit, it was clear that bullies had taken part of it away from him.

And Severus did not take bullies lightly.

Perhaps that was why, after running to Voldemort, he had run right back. True, part of it was because Lily's life was at stake, and he was content to allow Dumbledore to think that was the only reason, but it wasn't. The other reason he ran right back was because the Dark Side was just as full of bullies as the Light Side was. Severus was surrounded by bullies, whichever side he chose. And the only reason he had run to the Dark Side was to be rid of bullies. When that didn't work, he came back to the Light Side.

At least on the Light Side he could defend himself against the bullies without worrying about being _Avada Kedavra-_ed.

He shook himself and got back to the essay. He needed to get this grading done, or else he would likely lose his job. And though he loved to grumble about it, he really did enjoy his job. There was always one student who wasn't a dunderhead, and Severus loved enriching the one person's life.

A knock sounded at the door and Severus set the essay aside. Clearly tonight was not a night for grading.

"Come in," He said. The door opened and his godson walked through, the Boy Who Lived close behind. "Hello Draco."

"Severus," Draco nodded, apparently believing that he did not need to address him formally in front of Potter as he did in front of the rest of the students.

"What can I help you with?" Severus asked, glancing suspiciously at Potter, who was quiet in the background. He couldn't have possibly been hurt again in such a short time period, could he?

"Harry has something he needs to show you," Draco announced, grabbing Potter's hand and towing him forward, placing the hand in Severus'. Severus had an odd flash of the tradition of the father placing his daughter's hand in the husbands at the wedding and suppressed a gag. Not exactly what he wanted to be thinking about with Potter's hand in his.

"It's nothing, really," Potter said, trying to pull his hand out of Severus'.

"Turn his hand around," Draco advised, his silver eyes flashing. Severus did so and carefully read the carved words with thinly veiled anger.

"Who did this?" Severus demanded.

"Umbridge," Potter said nervously. It took a moment for Severus to realize that he was nervous because of him, and he gently released Potter's hand.

"And you saw fit to tell no one?" Severus asked.

"What would it change?" Potter asked plaintively.

Yes, Severus decided. That was definitely the attitude of someone who had been bullied.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. None of them at all.

A/N: Here you go. Not one of my best chapters, but it's leading up to some good ones. Review please.

Chapter 15

Harry went to the library, figuring he would find Hermione there. He needed to talk to her. First about how he had actually kissed Malfoy, and how Malfoy had snogged him back, and secondly about how weird Snape was being. The man was supposed to hate him, but he almost seemed nice today.

And it was weirding Harry out. He wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't someone impersonating Snape with Polyjuice Potion.

Harry turned into one of the shelves and spotted Hermione with five or so books stacked against her chest. He moved forward and took some of the books from her.

"Oh hi Harry," She greeted him. She turned to look at him and gasped. "What happened to your face?"

"Somebody punched me," Harry remarked mildly, gently touching his tender nose.

"Did you see Madam Pomfrey?" She asked.

"Well, no," Harry said, not wanting to get into that part of the story until he had told her the exciting story first. "But that's part of what I need you to talk about."

"Should we get Ron?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

"I doubt he'll want to hear that I kissed Draco," Harry said. Hermione dropped her books and flung herself at Harry, wrapping him in a hug. Harry resisted flinching. "You just dropped your books," He remarked. "You must have been more invested in this than I thought."

"Oh, shut up," Hermione said, releasing him. "I'm just glad you actually did something about your feelings. You deserve to be happy."

"You didn't even ask if he kissed back," Harry said, rather than argue about how her last sentence may not have been exactly correct.

"Please," Hermione scoffed, picking back up her books. "I've seen the way that boy looks at you."

"And you couldn't have specified to me that it wasn't like he wanted to kill me?" Harry asked, walking towards the empty table. Hermione followed him.

"You had to figure it out on your own," She said, smiling at him. "You said you had something else to tell me?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "I think someone might be impersonating Snape."

"What? Why?" Hermione asked. Harry leaned forward, glancing around to make sure no one was listening.

"He's being nice," Harry whispered. He half expected Snape to suddenly pop up and Crucio him for even mentioning that he could be anything but heartless, but it didn't happen.

"Well, I don't think that necessarily means that he's being impersonated," Hermione said. "What do you mean nice?"

"I went to him to get my nose checked," Harry explained. "And he didn't even throw one insult at me! It was like he was almost caring. And then when Draco brought me down, again, because he saw my hand, Snape didn't even say anything to the effect that I deserved it."

"Well, if Draco trusts him, maybe isn't so bad after all," Hermione suggested. Harry rolled his eyes.

"But that doesn't explain why he's being so nice to me! He hates me, he said so himself," Harry said. Hermione shrugged, running a finger along the spine of one of the books she had gotten.

"Maybe he's finally just seeing the real you and realizing that you're not as bad as he thought you were," She suggested. "Perhaps he's finally realizing that his preconceived idea is totally false."

* * *

Harry sat down at the Slytherin table for dinner, sliding between Pansy and Draco, who both scooched over slightly to let him in.

"Hi," Draco said. "How was your chat with Granger?"

"Good," Harry said, grabbing a plate and roll. "She told me how much of an idiot I am, as usual."

Pansy snorted and glanced over at the Gryffindor table. Harry had a feeling that should the two ever actually talk, they would become great friends. They both liked to be the ones that knew best and call boys out on their stupidity.

An owl flew into the room and landed on Draco's shoulder, dropping a letter. Harry caught it quickly before it fell into Draco's food and handed it to him.

"Get away, you useless bird," Draco shrugged his shoulders and the bird took off again. Across the hall Ron stood up and Harry watched him argue with Hermione, trying to figure out what they were saying. Sometimes he just wished they would snog and get over it. Ron said a final thing and then stormed out of the hall. Harry watched him go and then turned back to Draco, surprised to find the boy staring sullenly at the letter in his hands.

"Bad news?" He asked. Draco looked up and shrugged.

"Not really, bad, per se. My mother just wants me home for Christmas this year," He explained. "She doesn't want to be alone."

"You don't want to go home?" Harry asked, biting his roll.

"No, I do," Draco explained. "I just don't want to leave _you_ here all alone."

"I'll be fine," Harry shrugged. "You can't leave your mother alone on Christmas."

"Okay," Draco said reluctantly. "But I'll see if I can come back a little early, so we can spend part of the vacation together."

"It's really okay," Harry said.

Being alone on Christmas was all he had ever known, after all.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or any other publically recognizable features of this story.

A/N: We are quickly approaching the Severitus part of this story. This means that there will be allusions to child abuse. I don't think it will get too graphic, but I just wanted you all to know.

Chapter 16

Harry was quite possibly the happiest he had been in a long time.

Sure, the ground wasn't the most comfortable place to be laying, even if it was adorned with a fluffy rug that the Room of Requirement had given him, but the fact that the room was warmed comfortably by the large fireplace, that Draco's pale slender fingers were moving at a heavenly pace through his hair, and that both his Gryffindor friends and Slytherin friends were coexisting in the same space without killing each other, was more than making up for it.

"You know, we can all tell that you aren't actually doing that reading," Draco informed him. Harry rolled his eyes upward to catch his silver gaze and held it, smiling unashamedly.

"It's one day until Christmas break, I'll just do all my homework then," Harry said, tossing the book that was going unread already off to the side. He curled closer to Draco, keeping his head still in his lap, and looked across the room at where Ron and Blaise were locked in a vicious battle over the chessboard. Ron was trying to keep his face straight, but Harry could tell that he was immeasurably pleased that he had found someone who would actually challenge him.

A cool draft made its way across his back and he noted with panic that his shirttail had rode up. He yanked it back down, ignoring the look Draco sent him.

If there was one thing bad about their relationship, it was how many secrets Harry was keeping from him. It wasn't as if he didn't trust him. No, in fact, it was the opposite. He trusted Draco too much. He trusted that Draco would want to change things, to move Harry to safety, and Harry couldn't just let that happen. He had put too many people in danger already, he didn't need to prolong the danger by living with someone. And yes, he knew that even if he wasn't around Voldemort would still attack, but if he wasn't there, Sirius never would have come. The cup would not have been transformed into a portkey and Cedric would not have died.

Harry was not too dull to notice that everywhere he went people died. The fact that all of these people would not have been targeted until they started helping Harry did not pass by him.

And the other secrets, the ones he wasn't keeping because he was worried that Draco would overreact, he was keeping to keep Draco safe. He knew that just Draco being in a relationship with him was increasing the danger for him exponentially, but he couldn't stop himself. He was too selfish to give up one of the few good things that had happened to him.

Draco's slender finger traced Harry's scar, sending shivers up and down Harry's back. Draco was perhaps the one person who could touch Harry's scar and for Harry not to feel creeped out or uncomfortable because of it. Draco's finger moved to trace Harry's eyebrow and Harry looked up at him again. Draco's beautiful silver eyes were staring at him with concern and Harry swallowed. When Draco gave him that look, the look that said that he actually cared, it was all he could do not to spill all of his secrets.

Instead Harry leaned up and kissed him, wondering how they could have been dating for only a week and yet the taste of Draco's lips to be so familiar. Draco shifted, hauling Harry easily up onto his lap and deepening the kiss, his hands going around to thread through the messy hair at the nape of Harry's neck.

Yes, Harry thought as their lips moved in tandem, there was no way that he would tell Draco of his secrets. Because even if Draco could somehow still want to be with him after he knew them all, Harry couldn't stand putting this beautiful boy holding him in that type of danger.

* * *

Draco swung his hand, secure in Harry's, between them, wandering slowly down the hall. He was stalling, and he knew it. But he had just gotten Harry and he didn't want to leave him.

Draco dragged the pad of his thumb along the cut Harry had on his chin from potions, from when Longbottom's cauldron had exploded. Draco knew that Longbottom was utterly brilliant in other things, like Herbology, because the boy had beat him in the class ever single year, and his father had beat him every year because of it, but he still thought the boy was completely incompetent in potions. Honestly, how did he explode something when there was nothing explosive in the potion?

"You're going to miss the train," Harry said and Draco was pleased to see that his voice reluctant. Draco pulled his hand away just as reluctantly and placed a kiss on the Boy Who Lived's perfectly kissable lips.

"Please, I'm Draco Malfoy, the train will wait for me," He scoffed. Harry rolled his green eyes and Draco laughed. He wanted to say that he would miss Harry, that he would be counting down the days until he could see him again, the truth, but instead he settled for kissing him again, because he had a reputation to uphold.

"Have fun with your mother," Harry said, wrapping his skinny and yet somehow muscular arms around Draco. Draco hugged him back, burying his face in Harry's shoulder and breathing in his unique scent, and then forced himself to let go, knowing that the train would not really wait for him. "Come back soon."

"I will," Draco said. He patted down one of the most misbehaving puffs of Harry's hair and then forced himself to take a step away. "And you better have all of your homework done, so we don't have to spend any of our time together without lessons doing that."

"Bye," Harry said morosely, his face incredibly put out in a way that made Draco want to rush right back to his side. Instead he let his feet carry him down the hallway and out the door without looking back, because catching sight of that face would ruin his self-control.

It was week. Only a week. He could do this.

* * *

Harry watched Draco walk away and then turned on his heel, heading back to the Slytherin common room to get started on his homework. There was nothing quite like the promise of time with Draco Malfoy to get him motivated.

He rubbed a hand over his scar, which had prickled non-stop today, and forced his somber thoughts away. Sure, he was alone, Draco, Hermione, and Ron all gone for the holidays, but it could have been worse. He could have been going back to the Dursley's for Christmas. He could have not had people that he was looking forward to coming back.

Harry nodded, deciding to be glad of what he did have instead of what he didn't, and continued on his way, making it a few steps before stumbling on his untied shoelace.

He pitched forward in a way that promised to be painful if hands had not reached out to steady him. He would have been grateful, really, if it weren't that the fact that the same hands did so only to punch him.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story, nor any of the settings. J.K. Rowling does.

A/N: Please review. Also, this is the beginning of the Severitus in this story and with that comes the allusions to child abuse. I'm not sure if it is this chapter or the next, but it will be soon.

Chapter 17

Harry winced as a fist hit him roughly in the face. His glasses skittered away and he fumbled for his wand. His fingers closed around the wood just as he was hit again, harder this time, and was sent to the floor. A foot stepped on his hand, the one holding his wand, and he bit his lip harshly to hold in the scream as his fingers crunched audibly.

Someone kicked him, hard, in the ribs and he gasped for breath. Years of practice with Uncle Vernon had him curling in fetal position, his hands around his head to protect it as more kicks rained down on him.

"Not so golden now, are you, Golden Boy?" Someone snarled. Harry squinted, catching a sight of brown hair, and then shielded himself again as another fist flew, glancing off of his cheekbone.

"You should call him rainbow boy instead," Someone else offered, snickering. Harry closed his eyes and tried to imagine that this was not happening, that he was still with Draco somewhere and this was just a bad dream. Sometimes, when Uncle Vernon was whaling on him, he could do that. He could pretend that he was somewhere, anywhere than there. It made the punches hurt less and his soul strengthen.

Someone kicked him, right in the groin, and he groaned, curling closer in on himself. For a second everything went away and all that existed was pain. It was nearly as bad as the Cruiciatus curse, but not quite. His attackers, Harry guessed there to be about three, finally seemed tired of him and the punches stopped.

"The Boy Who Lived, on the ground," Someone whispered. Harry opened his eyes just in time for spit to spray across his face. "And stay there."

Footsteps signaled the boys leaving, but Harry stayed put for a second, trying to regain control of his breathing. Pain ripped jaggedly through his side as he gasped for air, but he knew that he needed to get up. He got to his knees and scrabbled around for his glasses and wand. He finally found his wand and he sat down roughly.

"Accio glasses," He croaked. His glasses flew into his hand and he curled his fingers around them, shoving them on his face. The bruises smarted, but he couldn't stand not being able to see. Sometimes, when he was younger, Uncle Vernon would take away his glasses for days just because he knew it bothered Harry so much to be blind.

Harry got heavily to his feet and swayed for a couple moments before starting on his way. He didn't want to go to the Hospital Wing, but he doubted that Blaise, the only one in his year that had stayed for Christmas break, would let him come in and bleed all over their room. Each step was incredibly painful, but nothing that Harry had never felt before.

The halls were abandoned, entirely empty, which Harry was immensely glad about. He didn't want to know what he would do if he came upon another student.

He passed by the doors to the Great Hall, limping and holding tightly to his side. Suddenly the doors opened and he watched in horror as Snape stepped out of the doors. Harry continued on, hoping the man would leave him alone.

"Mr. Potter," Snape drawled. Harry stopped, stiffening. "Was there a reason you were not at the dinner?"

"I wasn't hungry," Harry said, wincing when his words were slurred because of his fat lip.

"Uh-huh," Snape said. "Turn around when I speak to you, Mr. Potter."

Harry considered making a run for it, but he knew that it would help nothing. He could barely walk, never mind run from someone. He slowly turned around, his ribs aching. He almost enjoyed Snape's look of shock as he looked over him, his dark eyes showing an emotion other than deep hatred.

"Someone attacked me," Harry said, hoping to break the silence. He licked his lips, recognizing the coppery taste of a split lip.

"Who was it?" Snape asked, his voice bristling. Harry shrugged.

"They took my glasses," He said by way of explanation.

"I see," Snape said evenly. "Come with me."

Harry followed after the man as he turned on his heel, not wanting to infuriate anyone else. His ribs ached and he bit back a groan as they went down the stairs. Snape opened the door and Harry limped inside.

"Take a seat," Snape ordered. Harry did as he said, perching on one of the chairs. Snape disappeared into a supply closet and then came back. Harry stayed quiet as Snape worked on his face. Perhaps it was because of the lack of care in his early years, or perhaps because he was just someone who didn't like it when people took care of his injuries, but Harry was always uncomfortable whenever someone was taking care of him. Add that to the fact that it was Snape taking care of him and Harry wished that he was anybody rather than himself at the moment.

"Alright," Snape said, wiping a finger on the rag he had brought over. "Now take off your shirt."

"What?" Harry asked, breaking away from his zone. "Why?"

"Because I can see you favoring your ribs," Snape said. "And I need to make sure that they are not broken and puncturing something. As much as I wish to not have to teach you, it is not because I wish for you to be dead."

"I…no," Harry refused, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

"What do you mean, no?" Snape asked, an inkling of his usual fury on his face.

"I mean I do not want to take my shirt off for you," Harry said, battling his panic. He could refuse to take of his shirt. It was within his rights. Snape did not have to see his scars.

"Take off your shirt, now, Potter," Snape demanded. Harry shook his head stubbornly, eyeing a piece of the floor, just by Snape's foot, without looking up. Snape's long fingers touched Harry's shirt, pulling up slightly, and panic flood Harry. He stared at the floor, wishing to be anywhere than where he was.

And then, quite suddenly, he was.

Harry knew he should have been bothered by his suddenly relocation, but he was a bit preoccupied with his panic. It seemed to be growing, making his chest tight and uncomfortable. He took a deep breath, curling in on himself and ignoring the pain. He tried to think rationally. Draco trusted Snape. And Harry trusted Draco.

The door opened and Snape stepped into whatever room he had appeared in.

"Potter," Snape said lowly. Harry kept his eyes on the wall across the room, even as Snape came forward and crouched down next to him. "Harry."

Harry took a deep breath and then peeled off his shirt, doing something he had never done before.

Trusting an adult to take care of him.


End file.
